


when we reach forever.

by darkerholland



Series: death goes before me. [2]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Anxiety, Character Death, M/M, Medication, Suicidal Thoughts, despite these tags the story has a happy ending!!!, mention of suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 06:13:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30084681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkerholland/pseuds/darkerholland
Summary: Felix lives an unfulfilling life working at a local flower shop and dreams every night of a faceless figure murdering him. The only Good Thing in his life is Chan, his boyfriend of three years. While on a  regular date, they discover something that changes their lives in ways they couldn't even imagine.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Lee Felix, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: death goes before me. [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2213679
Comments: 21
Kudos: 35





	1. anxiety is love's greatest killer

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS THE SEQUAL TO DEATH GOES BEFORE ME. RECOMMENDED TO READ THAT ONE BEFORE THIS
> 
> Hello everyone! This was quite long in the making, sorry for making you guys wait so long :(. I wrote the sequel but then wasn't happy about it at all, so I decided to rewrite the whole thing, but I've been busy with school as well, so that's why it took me nearly two (2!!!) months to finish this!
> 
> The title is a lyrics taken from one of my favourite songs, Almost Heaven by Jeremiah Lloyd Harmon. If you prefer darker songs with a moodier tone, I highly suggest checking out Isak Danielson's cover of this song! Both versions are amazing and worth checking out!

Felix awoke with a start.

The imageries of his nightmare slipped away from him. He tried to hold on to the fleeting visions just a tiny bit longer so he could make sense of them, but with one blink of an eye they were completely gone, and all that was left was the despairing feeling that had come with the dream and the impression that it had been sad rather than frightening. He never remembered anything of these nightmares other than a figure looming over him, their hands outstretched and reaching for his face. That’s when they ended.

He could see the sky through the open curtains. It was turning slightly pink as the sun started to creep higher on the horizon. Felix had made it a general rule for himself to rise simultaneously with the sun, so the ending of his nightmare was well-timed.

Felix set about completing the mind-numbing routine he had implemented for himself and was impossible to stray from if he wanted to get through his day without a breakdown. He took a shower which lasted no longer than two minutes – a measure he had constructed to keep the utility bill low and prevent himself from staring at the shower wall for half an hour contemplating his life – and then had an apple as a quick breakfast. He drank it with some camomile tea to soothe his anxiety and then slammed the rest of the tea down with his prescribed benzodiazepines which _actually_ soothed his anxiety (Felix liked to think the tea did most of the work, but he knew these were the thoughts of a fool in denial). After his body had been washed, his teeth had been brushed, an apple had been eaten, and his calming sedatives had been taken, he slung his bag over his shoulder and locked his tiny apartment up to go to work.

After obtaining his university degree – a bachelor in Peace, Justice, and Conflict Solution – Felix had chosen to continue his employment with Favourite Flowers, the flower shop he had worked at since his first year of university, rather than do whatever people with his bachelor did, which was usually teaching or social work. Despite his good results and graduating near the top of his class, those work prospects sounded too complicated and exerting to Felix. He preferred to be surrounded by flowers rather than people, which is why working at Favourite Flowers was fantastic for his social needs; it was situated at such an unfavourable location it wasn’t frequently visited by, well, anyone.

“Good morning,” Felix called out to Hero as he entered the shop, which served more as an acknowledgement of his presence than a greeting. He didn’t bother trying to work any emotion into his voice, either.

Hero appeared in the doorway of their office behind the shop’s counter. “Good morning,” they responded solemnly. Felix was unfazed by the reaction.

When Hero had hired Felix in his first year, Favourite Flowers had still been somewhat popular. That had quickly changed when two new shops had opened downtown around the same time, and suddenly all of their customers were gone. He and Hero had been good friends, back then. Now, whenever Felix entered the shop, he was met with Hero’s sour face and an irritated attitude. Hero couldn’t afford Felix anymore, and he wasn’t really needed anymore either. The customers they did get could easily be handled by Hero. Felix was thankful for whatever reason they had decided not to let Felix go.

Hero had been droning on about an investment they had been sitting on top of. It would be their saving grace. Unfortunately, they had been saying this for two years already, and Felix wasn’t sure there had ever been an investor. So until that lie of comfort would become truth, Felix swept the floor, watered the plants, and rang up the few customers they received that day. In terms of dreariness, it was beyond tedious. Felix hadn’t minded once, a long time ago, but now his skin itched and crawled with the need to get out of here.

Around midday, after Felix had sprayed the plants with water, and swept the floor, and cleaned vases, and swept some more, Hero called him into the office.

“Can you do the delivery today? I’m swamped with work,” they said, gesturing at the mountain of paperwork on their desk.

Hero preferred to do the deliveries because it gave them a chance to get away from the shop for an hour or so. Whenever Hero would make the rounds, Felix would sit by the counter and dissociate into whatever state he saw fit. He’d forget everything around him. It wasn’t healthy, not by a long shot, but it was the only way he wouldn’t pull his own hair out.

Felix grabbed the van keys from the hook on the office wall without a second thought. Not unlike Hero, he loved doing deliveries, though for very different reasons. One of their customers was Last Voyage, a funeral business on the edge of town. Whenever Felix delivered, he always made sure to keep the funeral home for last so he could spend more time there.

Chan worked there, which really was the only reason he ever wanted to go there. Chan was the son of Mr Bang, the funeral director in charge of the Last Voyage. It was a very successful family business, and though Chan had a perfectly fine degree in Music Theory and Composition, the funeral business was a tad bit more lucrative than making it in the music world. He _did_ play guitar in an amateur rock band and occasionally supported the frontman with his outstanding vocals as well.

The band was called _The Ceruleans_ , and they mostly played in pubs and clubs during the week. Felix had gone to some (most) of their performances and had loved every second of it. Chan got lost in the music, and Felix got lost in Chan’s movements and facial expressions.

Felix tapped his fingers against the steering wheel as he drove into the Last Voyage driveway. For a funeral business, it looked quite lively, with bright and colourful flower beds lining their entrance, and a calming blue-coloured front, their name painted onto it with big swirling letters.

Mira, an intern working at the funeral home, helped Felix unload everything. He was a little disappointed Chan hadn’t come out to help. Was he not here today?

After everything was put in place, Mira offered Felix a glass of water to quench his thirst (he wasn’t thirsty), so he graciously accepted the water (so he could ask if Chan was in today).

“He’s here somewhere,” Mira said after he had asked her if Chan was around. She sounded a bit put out by the question. “I can go get him for you if you want to,” she suggested, sounding even more upset at having to do that, so Felix mumbled that that wasn’t necessary and that he needed to get going again. Mira gave him a little wave as he made his way outside, letting the heavy door slam down behind him.

Chan knew Favourite Flowers delivered to them on Thursdays, and even if he never knew who would show up, he always made sure to check in in case it was Felix, which had always made his heart flutter. Had he done something to upset Chan? They hadn’t seen each other in nearly a week, and when they’d parted they’d been on _very_ good terms.

Felix shook the worry away as he checked the van one last time to make sure he hadn’t left anything behind. Just as he pulled the door closed, two big hands came to rest on his waist, and he smiled at the feeling.

“Were you going to go without giving me a kiss first?” Chan whispered into Felix’ ear, slightly blowing into it. Felix giggled, a sound that had sounded completely foreign to him the first time it had come from his mouth a few months ago. He swatted Chan away and turned so he could put his arms around Chan’s neck.

“Hello,” he said softly.

“Hello,” Chan repeated.

They stared at each other for a few moments, both getting lost in each other’s eyes, and then Felix laughed and pulled Chan’s face towards him, firmly planting their lips together. Chan squeezed Felix’ waist and pulled him flush against his body. Unfortunately, Felix had never been secure on his feet, and the pair stumbled into the open van unto their backs with a yelp. There was another moment of silence before they burst out in laughter.

“The back of a van, eh?” Chan said. “We’ve never done it in here before.”

Felix reddened and covered his face with his hands. Chan chuckled and angled his face towards Felix’ neck, leaving a trail of feather-light kisses along the side of his neck and face, even going as far as to kiss his hands and gently nudging them away from Felix’ face with his nose.

“Don’t hide yourself away from me. I always want to see you, even when you’re flustered.”

The statement was equal parts romantic and embarrassing, which made Felix go even redder, but he listened to Chan and courageously looked him square in the eyes.

Chan grinned. “ _Especially_ when you’re flustered.” He nuzzled his face back into Felix’ neck. “You look so pretty when you blush.” He sucked at a particular area of Felix’ skin. Felix closed his eyes and tried not to make a sound of pleasure. Yes, they were hidden in a van, but it was parked quite close to the funeral home, and he didn’t even want to think about the embarrassment of having to face Mira in a compromising position. Or worse, Mr Bang.

Chan’s hand wandered down to the hem of Felix’ shirt – a very unflattering dark green polo he was required to wear for work – and lifted it slightly, letting his hands roam over Felix’ stomach, caressing it gently as he softly nipped at his neck. Felix entangled his hands into Chan’s hair. There was no better sight than Chan with tousled hair (especially when Felix had been the one to tousle it).

Chan’s hand wandered down again, and once Felix felt him fumbling with his belt, he gently but firmly pushed at Chan’s chest. The latter stilled immediately, withdrawing his hand from Felix’ crotch.

“As much as I would love for you to have your wicked ways with me, I will _not_ do it in the back of a nasty-smelling van parked right outside a funeral home. Also, I have to get back to work. Hero will worry where I am.”

Chan rolled his eyes but untangled himself from Felix. “Hero wouldn’t ever do such a thing. They’re far too worried about paying you to be worried about your wellbeing. In fact, I think they would rather appreciate it if you wouldn’t return.”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say,” Felix said absent-mindedly as he – begrudgingly – fixed Chan’s hair to make it somewhat presentable.

“You know, if you’d worked here, we wouldn’t be half as dismissing as Hero is.”

Felix fixed him with a pointed look. “We’ve had this discussion, Chan.”

Chan threw his arms up. “I don’t see how it’s ever been a discussion. Hero barely likes you and rewards your long hours with shit pay. Here, everyone likes you, and we’d actually pay you enough for you to open up a savings account.”

Felix felt his cheeks heat up again. He had tried to hide the fact that he was living from paycheque to paycheque, but once he’d admitted to Chan he couldn’t attend _The Ceruleans_ ’ performances if the place they were playing at required an entrance fee, he’d pulled the cat out of the bag. Chan had been very sweet about it, or was trying to be in his own way, but the bluntness with which he tried to help Felix made him feel ashamed and uncomfortable. Conversations about money were best left unspoken.

“Hero’s just got a lot on their plate,” Felix muttered.

“That’s got nothing to do with you. Why won’t you accept the job offer my dad’s put forward? Even Hero said this was a good chance for you.”

“Sure, I take the job and everything’s great. Then we break up. What am I supposed to do then?”

Chan shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m sure we’ll figure something out. You could always look for a new job then.”

“Oh, _I_ have to look for a new job? I’m just supposed to drop the one I already have because you want me to, and then when it all goes to shit you want _me_ to leave again?”

Chan sat up. “You know that’s not what I meant! Besides, _you_ were the one who started the thing about breaking up. Something you want to tell me, Felix?” he asked, a chill in his voice.

Felix rolled his eyes and scooted out of the van, facing Chan with his hands on his hips. “Don’t be ridiculous! I’m just being realistic. I know this is all a lot easier for you because your livelihood doesn’t depend on it, but mine does.”

“Don’t take that up with me!” Chan said, his voice shaking. He cleared his throat and swallowed his emotion. “I’ve offered multiple times to advance your rent for you. You’ve always refused.”

“For a reason! You know I don’t want to be dependent on you for money. It makes me feel weird.”

Chan exhaled in frustration. “That’s what couples do, Felix! They help each other out when things get rough. Me paying your rent for one month because you’re struggling and us sleeping together doesn’t equal you whoring yourself out,” Chan said fiercely.

An uncomfortable silence fell. Chan bit his lips and raked a hand through his hair. Felix crossed his arms and rubbed them, just to do _something_. He felt the familiar bubble of pain rise up in his stomach, his breathing getting shallower at the thought of losing the only people who truly cared about him. He hated fighting with Chan, especially when he knew he truly only meant well. He didn’t want to cry in front of Chan; it would only reinforce the image he had of Felix: weak and fragile, in dire need of help.

“Just – I have to go. I need to get back to the shop.”

Chan got out of the van but kept his hand on the door. “You’re not leaving. Not like this. Not when we haven’t finished this discussion and we’re both clearly upset.”

Felix's shoulders drooped. “Fine.”

Chan sat down again. “Can you tell me why you don’t want any financial help from me?”

Felix looked the other way and tried to control his emotions. “It’ll make me feel like I’m only using you for your money.”

“But I suggested it to you.” It didn’t elicit a response from Felix, so Chan sighed slightly and lightly pulled Felix forward by his wrists. “It wouldn’t be so bad for you to accept help every now and again, you know? I know you think you can do it on your own because that’s the way you’ve lived for most of your life, but that doesn’t mean you _should_. I love you, and I hate seeing you shrink down like this. I know your anxiety’s gotten worse these past few months.”

Chan was right, though he didn’t want to admit it. Felix’ anxiety had gotten worse. The stress of probably losing his job and his irrational fear of Chan leaving him as their relationship had progressed into something more long-lasting was not a great mix for his already existing anxiety. Chan had carefully suggested therapy, and though Felix wasn’t opposed to the idea at all, in fact, he quite agreed with Chan, he couldn’t afford both a therapist and his benzodiazepines – something he hadn’t told Chan – and he didn’t think living his life unmedicated was a good idea at this point. He was too unstable without them.

Chan sighed again and pulled Felix even closer, laying his head on Felix’ stomach and squeezing him. Felix hesitantly combed his hands through Chan’s hair.

“You should swallow your pride sometimes, Felix,” Chan said softly.

“I’d rather swallow something else,” Felix responded lamely without much seduction. Chan laughed and nuzzled closer.

As their discussion died down, so did the tension in Felix’ body. He knew the anxiety would come back in full force tonight and that he would have to sacrifice a night of sleep in order to calm the darkness raging inside of him. For now, he was content with simply being near Chan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title was taken from a quote by Anais Nin. Full quote: "anxiety is love's greatest killer. It makes others feel as you might when a drowning man holds on to you. You want to save him, but you know he will strangle you with his panic.”


	2. one love, one heart, one destiny

Chan was killing him.

Even in the dark, Felix recognised his eyes, the way they glimmered with moisture and regret and grief. The fullness of Chan’s lips, which usually were always pulled into a smile, but were now only a thin line, were still the same lips Felix was used to kissing. He had spent enough time holding Chan’s hand and absentmindedly playing with it that only the outline of his hand in the shadow was enough for Felix to know it was him. Even the shape of his fingers brought about an intense feeling of familiarity.

Chan brought his hand down to Felix’ face, and then Felix blinked, above him only the clear blue sky he had fallen asleep under. He sighed and swallowed, his throat dry from the dry summer air, his skin itchy from the grass scratching at his arms. A rustling sound made him turn his head.

“Did you have a bad dream again?” Chan asked softly as he swiped Felix’ hair from his face. The gesture had always been loving, and Felix used to lean into him, but now he could only struggle not to flinch away.

Felix shrugged noncommittally. Chan usually asked the question once or twice a week, more often if the dark circles under his eyes were more pronounced, and Felix would say the same thing over and over again: yes, I had a bad dream, and yes they’re still the same, and no they’re not leaving any time soon. Nine out of ten times, his answer would lead to another discussion about therapy, and he knew that if he told Chan the faceless figure in his dream had slowly morphed into _him_ , he would drag Felix to therapy himself, free choice be damned.

The nightmare featuring the faceless entity had haunted him since he was small, though he had only started remembering snippets of it once he entered adulthood. Since he’d met Chan, the figure had started shaping into something less shadowy and more detailed.

The first time the entity had fully taken on Chan’s face, not just vague impressions of his face, Felix had woken up crying and covered in sweat. He hadn’t slept the night afterwards out of fear of seeing his boyfriend in the dreams. He was more used to it now, but he still couldn’t explain why it had twisted into Chan, and why it felt so _right_. Felix gave an involuntary shudder. Perhaps it was only because Chan had become such an important person in his life and his subconscious had swapped the faceless figure out for something more familiar to frighten him.

Felix sat upright, rubbing at his eyes. Chan scooted closer, bringing his knees up to his chest.

“I can see it hanging above you like a dark rain cloud waiting to combust and drown you,” Chan said quietly. “Are you alright? You’ve been so quiet and withdrawn lately. I’m worried.” He gently pulled Felix’ hand closer to him and grazed his lips over the skin. “Are you still taking your meds?”

Felix gave him a pointed look. “You would know if I was off my meds. It’s just been a bit rough these past few days. It’s fine. I’ll get through it.”

“Can we go through it together?” Chan asked, his voice as small as a child’s. Felix looked at him and saw the pain in his eyes. He hated it when Felix shut him out. It’s not like he was doing it on purpose. Sometimes, he felt like he was bursting at the seams from everything he was keeping from Chan, and his skin itched from resisting the urge to spill every dark and wretched thing inside of him, consequences be damned.

“We should spend some more time here,” Felix said, ignoring Chan’s plea. “This place is good for me.”

The place he was referring to was a stretch of nature surrounding a mostly-fallen religious structure that they had dubbed ‘the church’ for the lack of a different identifier. There was something ironic about naming the place where they could be themselves without fear after something that represented the exact opposite of what they were.

It was the only place where calmness could blanket the war raging inside of Felix, peace and serenity as the angels on his shoulders whispering sweet nothing into his ears. Chan had first taken him there before they had even started dating, and now whenever either of them felt particularly upset or stressed-out, they would pack up a bag with some drinks and snacks and head out to spend their afternoon surrounded by nature.

“Come on,” Chan said, pushing himself off the ground and dusting his shorts off. He held out his hand. It felt warm as Felix placed his own in Chan’s. Warm and soft.

“What are we doing?” Felix asked as he let himself be pulled up.

Chan pulled out his phone and connected it to the wireless speaker he had brought. With a few clicks on the device, soft music started playing, echoing throughout the clearing. He pulled Felix into him, wrapping his arms around his small frame and started swaying to the beat. Felix had no choice but to move along with him, though he relaxed into Chan’s touch, placing his cheek on his shoulder.

The inner conflict Felix had felt for the past few weeks was playing up again. Why did both Chan killing him in his nightmares and being so close to him now feel so incredibly right? Like it was meant to be.

They moved across the clearing in small circles for perhaps three songs before a more upbeat song started playing and only swaying to the music wasn’t enough anymore. Chan untangled himself from Felix and started side-stepping, moving his arms to the side to make up a silly little dance. Felix laughed and joined him, copying his movement and adding some more footwork.

They danced around the clearing, jumping up and down fallen tree trunks and swinging from the low-hanging willow tree branches. Felix laughed like he’d never had, and he knew that if he could stay here forever, he would never have to drink camomile tea ever again.

Chan suddenly stopped mid-twirl, his hand outstretched to Felix as if to lunge. Felix’ brows furrowed at the movement, but he couldn’t decipher what Chan was mouthing over the loud music. Felix took a step backwards. His foot got stuck on something (a tree trunk) and the next second he was sprawled on the ground. Chan rushed forward, but Felix pacified him with a laugh. Even muddy jeans couldn’t stop his happiness. Chain joined him eventually (but only after making sure Felix was completely okay).

“What’s that?” Chan asked suddenly. He pointed at a bare spot right next to the tree trunk. All around it, grass grew high and bright, but this circular patch was strangely arid.

Felix shrugged. “Not sure.” He was ready to leave it at that, not the least bit interested in a bald patch, but Chan’s eyes twinkled.

“Felix! Do you know what that means? Someone must have recently disturbed the ground.” He looked at Felix expectantly, who returned it with a blank stare. Chan sighed. “To bury something.”

“Are you sure? Looks a bit strange, don’t you think? I mean, look at this grass. It’s super high, but there’s no clump or anything from where the grass here is supposed to be. Besides,” Felix said, stomping on the ground, “it’s rock-hard.”

“That just means something is stopping the growth of grass,” Chan said excitedly.

“I’m not sure that’s the way it works with grass.”

Chan ignored him. “Let’s start digging.” He dropped to his knees and started clawing at the ground.

“You go ahead,” Felix said. “I’ll just be over there,” he pointed at the blanket they had brought, “sipping on some delicious lemonade.”

Chan rolled his eyes and started smashing a thick branch against the ground to loosen up the soil. Felix shook his head and retreated to the clean blanket, lounging in the sun and listening to some summer tunes, Chan’s grunts of efforts easily drowned out.

“Felix!” Chan called out several minutes later.

Felix got up from the blanket, took off his sunglasses and made his way towards Chan, who was on his knees and dusting something off.

“Look what I found!” he said excitedly as Felix approached. He held up a small tin box, which resembled a colour Felix couldn’t name, especially not when the thing was covered in dirt and sand. Safe to say, Felix was unimpressed. “I _told_ you there was something buried here.”

Felix raised an eyebrow. “Open it, then. Maybe there’ll be nudes.” He took it from Chan’s hand and examined the box.

Chan scowled. “There won’t be any nudes in it. It’s like, one hundred years old.”

“Okay, well, they did have cameras back then, so there could still be nudes. And besides, it’s more like thirty years old.”

“Thirty?” Chan repeated. “How do you know?” Felix angled the box back to Chan and rubbed his finger over the imprint on the lid. _2020_.

“That’s barely exciting,” Felix said, throwing it back to Chan. “Have fun. I’ll be back on the blanket in the sun.” Felix, once again, retreated to the comfort of the blanket. He heard the metallic sounds and grunts of Chan struggling to open the tin. There was a moment of silence – a moment Felix greatly appreciated – where Chan had likely managed to open the tin and then he yelped. Felix shot up.

“OH MY GOD. Oh my God. Oh my God. _What the fuck!_ ”

“Chan, what is it?” he asked in a panic.

Chan didn’t look up as Felix jogged up to him. In his hands was a small black book, flipped open to a random page, a picture nestled between the pages. Felix frowned as he got closer to inspect the picture. Was it actually a nude? Once Felix got close enough to make out the details, his blood ran cold and he froze in place. His jaw fell, mimicking Chan’s exact expression.

The picture was of two men. One of them was wearing a neat black suit and sitting down on a stool, one foot resting on the stool’s stretcher, the other extended in length in front of him. His hand laid loosely in his laps, a silver ring glimmering on his ring finger. A hint of a smile played on his lips. The other man – a boy, really – stood behind him, his hair a lovely shade of purple, and a huge smile decorating his face. His hands were gently placed unto the sitting man’s shoulders, an identical silver ring on his small ring finger.

Nothing about the photo looked particularly out of place, save for the fact that the men looked _exactly_ like Felix and Chan. Or rather, _they_ looked like the men in the picture. Their hair colours were different, and Felix would not be caught dead in the clothes he was wearing in the picture, but other than that, they were indistinguishable.

“What the fuck,” Felix repeated in a whisper. “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck,” he said, louder and more frantic now. “What the fuck is that?!”

“I have no idea,” Chan said, his mesmerised eyes still on the picture. Felix couldn’t look at it anymore. It was just too creepy.

Chan finally put the picture down, revealing the two silver bands in the palm of his hands. Felix groaned. “Don’t tell me those are the rings in the picture!” Chan ignored Felix and inspected the rings, turning them over in his hand. He held them up the light, his eyes squinting as he looked at the inside. His eyes widened and his skin paled.

“Felix…”

“What?”

“No, I mean – I wasn’t – this has _your_ name engraved into it.” He held the ring out for him to see. Felix snatched it away, frantic as he held it up. There it was. _Chris & Felix - 20-12-2020_. Chan cleared his throat. “Uh, my name – my Christian name – is Christopher. No one calls me that, though.”

Felix looked at the ring. “Chris and Felix.”

“Chris and Felix,” Chan repeated.

“Chan, this is _us_.”

Chan looked up at him with desperate eyes. “How’s that even possible?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. But this can’t be a coincidence. I’ve heard of people having doppelgangers, but this is too weird. These two guys who look _exactly_ like us just happened to take a picture together? And their names are the same as ours? No, that’s way too weird.”

“It’s not like Chris and Felix are uncommon names,” Chan reasoned.

Felix couldn’t exactly argue with that because Chan was right; Felix himself knew four people named Chris, or at least a variation of the name. Five now, if he counted Chan as well.

Felix bit his lip and looked around the scene. Both of them were still holding one half of the pair of rings. Felix’ was smaller. He slid it on. A perfect fit. He almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it. The picture was still sticking out of the book. Felix’ eyes zoomed into the yellowed pages. The cover had come off from the actual book at some places, and the pages were all spread out, making it possible for Felix to read a word or two. Curiosity took him over. He grabbed the book and flipped to a random page.

“What are you doing?” Chan asked.

“They hid this little book for a reason, right? I’m sure there will be something about them in it. There _has_ to be.”

He hungrily flipped back to the pages where the picture was still nestled in between and started reading, aware of Chan’s presence behind him, taking in the words that were so incredibly impossible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is a lyrics from a Bob Marley song called “One Love”.


	3. angel's song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW mentions of suicidal thoughts and death (nothing too bad!!)

_December 19th, 2020_

I told Felix the truth today. I told him who I was and what my intentions with him were. He cried, of course. I wanted to cry as well, but that impenetrable wall stayed up. I desperately wanted to tear it down and show him my true emotions, the way _I_ felt the injustice of it all as well as him. In the end, I am glad I did not cry. Felix accepted it for what it was. I would not have, had I been him.

* * *

_December 19th, 2020_

I suppose that if I want you to understand what I am writing, I should start at the beginning. Well, perhaps not the _beginning_ \- beginning, but the start of _our_ beginning.

I met Felix for the first time on the eighth of December. It had yet to start snowing, and so the weather was not as bad as it would become later in the month. Felix was crafting that year’s nativity set when Father Gideon called him to me. I had heard him before I saw him. His voice was smooth like butter, his laugh the sound of a thousand angels rejoicing. A beam of sunlight flickered through the depiction of the Virgin Mary in the stained glass, and the red of her cloak reflected onto Felix’s left cheek. And his face! Oh, what a sight it was. My grip on the pen tightens now because it keeps flashing in front of my eyes. His beautiful brown eyes, blinking up so innocently at me; his pink and full lips curved into something that resembled a small smile; his nose which was slightly red from exertion; and his freckles. His freckles. They stole my breath away. Never before I had seen a face so perfectly elegant. The way it so beautifully glimmered as he stood before me; his face carved itself into my memory.

But this is a lie. I met Felix in the night when the seventh of December turned into the eighth. I was looking for him, and as if my presence was a magnet, Felix showed himself. At first, there was nothing but the gentle shadows to outline him. Even then, the contrast of his soft voice compared to his sharp jawline was enough to stop me in wonder. Then he came back with a candle, his face illuminated by a dim yellow hue. I forgot who I was. Despite my unfamiliarity, Felix approached me with a tenderness I had not seen in many years, back when my mother still worried about me like that. Eventually, he grew frightful of my unexplained presence, and I could not carry out my duty. I fled. I wonder now, would it have been easier if I had just done it then to save us both the pain and hurt?

This is also a lie. I met Felix before in my dreams of something greater, something lovelier, and something lighter. He was there when I looked at passing couples and I reluctantly thought: _I wish I could have that_. I met him in passing thoughts of love and lust. He had just not taken shape yet.

* * *

_December 19th, 2020_

A few days after our initial meeting, I took Felix to a little pub. We had already gotten to know each other slightly by then, but the hunger in me to know everything about him was a beast not easily tamed. I was thirsty for the knowledge of how he spent his days, what he wanted to do with his life. It both burdened me and eased my worries when he revealed he was not sure of anything in his life. I could see it, then. The restlessness, the anxiety and unhappiness. They had attached themselves to him like leeches, and no matter how hard he tried to swat them off, they remained. I should not have been impassive towards those emotions.

It was also around this time when I found out Felix, smart and highly intelligent Felix, was severely dyslexic, and could barely read. I will admit, I was shocked. Illiteracy was not uncommon in my time, but education had reached such a high standard that this rarely occurred in younger children. His determination to not let it hinder him is one of the reasons why I love him so much.

Yes, I love him. I suppose it should not have been a surprise. He was my challenge, after all. I found out when we went to a lighting show together and we had a small argument. I do not even remember what it was about. I only know that I had that sudden realisation, and I did not know whether or not I was happy.

I still do not know.

* * *

_December 20th, 2020_

It was a week before Christmas when I had to rescue Felix from Worker’s District. He was quite nearly passed out drunk, undercooled, and highly suicidal. The last part I should have spotted earlier, but sometimes I like living in my own ignorant bubble and I shove those underlying issues away for a later time. I am afraid that is a little personality flaw I have carried with me throughout my teenage years into adulthood. I always see what I want to see, not what is actually there, and that flaw could have been fatal for Felix, had he not persevered during the phone call.

Never before have I really thought about the people whose souls I take. I do it and the job is done. The next day I do it again. Mortality, being an immortal being myself, has not crossed my mind since before I died myself. But Felix’ close call was a wake-up call for myself as well. Mortality is a fragile thing, something humans think about daily. It can be cupped in the palm of someone’s hand or hang by a loose thread. I have forgotten that fact.

Once, a long time ago, I met a peculiar man in a little café near home. Back then, much like now, I did not often dwell in any particular place. But this café felt pleasant and I liked listening to the patron’s conversations. Usually, I was left alone, my presence avoided and ignored, just the way I liked it. But the peculiar man plopped himself down in the seat opposite me, and in shock, I greeted him back when the man casually said hello.

The conversation this man and I had was the longest conversation I had ever met with a human after ascending to the reaperdom, and it would be the last one before I met Felix. During our conversation, we skipped talking about the changing weather and the quality of the food being served. Instead, we talked about the universe, politics (at this point I was still involved in the then-current state of the world), and death.

I call this man peculiar not because of his looks or manner of speaking, but because of something he said to me. He said that the worst thing about men being mortal is that they were sometimes unexpectedly so. At the time, I did not think much of that particular comment, but I did get the sense that he knew who, or rather, _what_ , I was.

Years later, I was reading a book by the Russian author Mikhail Bulgakov and found this same opinion on mortality written into the dialogue. I did remember the man in the café having an accent, though I had not placed it as Russian until I came across that passage.

The comment did not enter my mind again until the whole ordeal with Felix had happened. Even though I was supposed to take his soul, supposed to kill him, I did not think about how Felix could do it himself, and how almost had. That notion scared me. For centuries, I had seen mortality as something decided by the fates, something humans feared and wanted to avoid. I had forgotten how easily humans could take control of it.

Yesterday, after my truth had been revealed, Felix and I were walking back from the church to the city, and the moon was high in the sky. Felix told me he loved spending nights at his windowsill, watching the moon vanish and the sun be born. I knew then that Felix sometimes wished he could die with the moon.

* * *

_December 23rd, 2020_

I will skip over the events that surround The Church of His Sacred Grace. All you need to know is that the truth being spoken was a weight off my shoulders and that we shared our first kiss in that church. Felix told me he loved me.

* * *

_December 23rd, 2020_

I think the bucket list is Felix’ way of dealing with his death. He thinks that if we cross off everything he has ever wanted to do before he dies that it will be okay. That he will have lived his life to the fullest. That there is nothing left for him.

It is weird. Felix has already more or less admitted that he has suicidal tendencies. I thought, perhaps naïvely so, that the truth would be easier to accept for him because it had already crossed his mind so many times. But then it had always been his choice. Now it was out of his hands, and I think the lack of control is making him anxious. That, paired with him perhaps starting to want to live again.

So far, I have taken him out on a drive to the mountains where we stopped at a little restaurant I knew sold lobster. Felix was not able to eat everything by himself, so despite my lack of need to eat, I finished the rest for him. After lunch, we went to a survival place that offers zip lining as an activity. This is where we found out Felix is deadly afraid of heights, so I cancelled the hot air balloon I had booked for that evening. Afterwards, we stopped at McDonald’s, which was not as good as Felix had expected, and once again, I was left to finish the twenty-piece chicken nuggets he could not.

When we came back, Father Gideon came out to the parking lot just as I was about to reverse to drive away. He told me he had never seen Felix’ this happy. I tried not to gloat too much at that. I think I failed.

* * *

_December 25th, 2020_

The day we got our tattoos was also the day we had our first big fight. We came back from the salon, Felix with a set of short lavender acrylic nails and me with a big fat pair of Felix-coloured glasses. This was not an issue. Yet.

Felix bleached and coloured his hair a matching shade of lavender in the discomfort of my small bathroom. He did not seem to mind. He was happily humming along to a song he had put on while massaging the dye into his hair.

Changbin was the one to do our tattoos. He had been a talented tattoo-artist once before he became a reaper. I have always wondered why he chose to become a servant of death, but he has never asked about my reasoning, so I will not ask for his.

The details of the tattoo have no real significance to me and I suspect Felix does not care that much either. He just wanted to mark us with something. He believes marking the body means marking the soul and that we carry those marks with us into our next lives. I am hesitant about that, but I am including it now because if he is right, I hope it will help us find each other again.

The evening escalated once we got back to St. Paul’s and Felix called Father Albert a fucking asshole. There is always tension between those two. Their bad opinions of each other are the only thing they have in common.

I thought defending Felix in that situation and whisking him away was the right choice. I did not take into account the guilt Felix was feeling. The Fathers were important to Felix, even if they caused him more grief than was necessary. It must be a conflicting feeling for Felix, to wholly love the people who do not understand you.

This is where the Felix-coloured glasses make their first appearance. I did not believe Felix was in the wrong because I did not think Felix was capable of doing wrong. If he yelled and cursed at Father Albert then there was a good reason for that. Of course, the situation was a bit more nuanced than that, but I still did not see _why_ Felix was feeling so guilty, only that the sole solution was to head back to St. Paul’s to let Felix salvage whatever needed to be salvaged on his own, without me. I did not think my being there would be a good idea.

I do not know how that night ended for Felix. For me, it did not end until about five hours ago, when I went to bed after staying up the entire night to hear from Felix. It is now twelve-sixteen and I have yet to receive a message.

* * *

_December 27th, 2020_

It is a wonderful thing to fall asleep with the person you love wrapped in your arms. Felix came to my home to apologise and gift me a beautiful silver ring. He has the same ring. They are supposed to be couple-rings.

 _Couple_. It’s still so strange to think that we, Felix and I, are a couple.

We talked and kissed and talked and kissed. It was magnificent. Even though Felix was tired, he kept his eyes open so he could look at me in the moonlight. It was perhaps the single most romantic thing I have ever experienced; the way his eyelids fluttered with every breath he took.

The morning after, of course, tragedy hit again. This seems to be a recurring occurrence in our relationship. Felix had not informed anyone of his whereabouts and after the scare of Felix in Worker’s District, the Fathers had not waited long before calling the police. So I spent the morning answering their questions, letting them make me into a villain, and then had a good (?) conversation with Father Gideon.

I understood Felix’ guilt then. I have never liked Father Gideon all that much on the account of him being a shitty Father and also him being a shitty father. To be honest, I can judge neither of those roles. I have never sat in during one of his sermons and I have nothing on the seventeen and a half years Father Gideon has known Felix. I am just feeling, as Felix has often said, a bit salty.

* * *

_December 30th, 2020_

I like flowers. Not really, but I like how happy they make Felix, and thus I like flowers.

I also like photographs. I also do not really like them, because I do not like to look at myself and be reminded of what I am. But Felix likes photographs and being photographed, and thus I like photographs (but only if Felix is in them).

* * *

_December 31st, 2020_

I am writing this as I sit in the car. I am waiting. I have never dreaded anything as much as I dread the moment I know I can no longer avoid.

Felix tried to keep his cool during dinner but I saw something inside of him break when he let me out. Or perhaps it had broken a long time ago and I was only now seeing it. It pains me that I will not be able to find out. It pains me that I will never know what he wanted to do with his life because I cut it short before he could decide. It pains me that we will never grow old with each other. Not in this life, anyway.

It is eleven-twenty-seven. I am leaving now.

* * *

_January 1st, 2021_

He is dead.

I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him.

* * *

_January 1st, 2021_

I do not regret meeting Felix. I do not regret getting to know him. I do not regret loving him. I do not regret our short time together. We are soulmates, meant to be in this life and the next. And with this, I have set the conditions for us to meet again. It is my greatest hope that I will recognise Felix in my next life, and him me in his.

I will go to sleep now, and when I wake, I will wake into a world where I will no longer know this pain of mine. I have been promised a good life, a better life. The only better life I can envision is a life where Felix and I can grow old together without the threat of death looming above us.

I hope this little notebook chronicling mine and Felix’ relationship finds itself into hands that know what to do with it. And if it ends up in my hands, I hope Felix is next to me already.

I have paid for my sins.

I deserve a better life than the ones I have lived; both as a human _and_ as a reaper.

Only then will the fates have repaid me for what they have done to us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is one of my favourite songs by Arlo Parks. The line “Felix sometimes wished he could die with the moon” is also taken from the song, though obviously changed a bit to fit the story.  
> 


	4. fate as cupido

Felix stared at the last page. The ones after that were painfully blank. He wasn’t sure what had happened to the writer – presumably Chris, judging by the initials pressed into the notebook – but Felix sensed he had ended his life. He had also killed Felix. The other one. The 2020 one. And he had not been human. He had been a… reaper? They had read the entirety of the notebook, including Chris’ life when he had still been human, which was a strange sensation, to say the least.

Chan cleared his throat and gently removed the book from Felix’ hands – which was not an easy task; Felix was gripping it so tightly Chan nearly had to pry his fingers off.

“Well,” Chan started. “I suppose that explains some things.”

“Like what?” Felix asked.

“I don’t know. Haven’t you ever had the feeling that we were meant to be or something? There was a connection between us from the beginning. The moment our eyes met. From my side, at least.”

“Mine too,” Felix said quietly but with enough force for Chan to believe him.

Felix wasn’t lying. They had met at the _Nevernight_ , a pub on the outskirts of the city near the university, which was frequented by students because of the cheap beer. Felix had still been one of them back then, but he had been on the other side of the bar, pouring and mixing drinks for his peers for meagre pay. This was when there had still been another employee at Favourite Flowers who Felix shared his shifts with, so the shit pay from his bartending job combined with the shit pay from the flower shop equalled just enough money to afford his dingy apartment.

It was the Friday night after midterms finished, which meant the _Nevernight_ was packed with students letting off steam. The owner, a small man whose name he couldn’t even remember now, had booked _The Ceruleans_ for their first-ever performance there, which Felix knew to be a terrible idea. On nights like these, live music just didn’t do well; students preferred EDM and dance music to lose their mind to, not some alternative rock music. Those types of bands were appreciated on quiet Wednesday nights, when the pub was filled with older students, people studying music, and lecturers going for a pint with their colleagues.

Felix had been right, of course. The crowd ignored _The Ceruleans_ completely and shouted over the music. Felix was too far back to see or hear anything distinct about the band, and even if the bar had been closer, there were so many people swarming around it he couldn’t even see three metres ahead.

It was perhaps after the fifth or sixth song when the band called it quits and started breaking off their set. One of the other bartenders hooked up his laptop to the pub’s sound system and suddenly the room was filled with heavy-bass music thudding so loudly Felix felt it in his  
heart.

Five sour and sweaty faces made their way to the bar, and Felix immediately recognised them as the musicians. They ordered a few beers and started mingling with the students, trying to make something of their night, but one of the musicians stayed behind, clinging to the bar and not paying any mind to him being shoved by people ordering drinks. It was only after twenty minutes that Felix realised the man kept looking in his direction, even though his first beer was still full, and another twenty before the bustle died down a bit and Felix mustered up the courage to approach him.

He didn’t want to sound overly confident but looking the way he did, with his small stature and pixie-like facial features, he attracted a lot of attention from a certain crowd. He usually ignored the flirting and compliments, knowing very well people were just trying to get a free drink out of him. Sometimes they wanted something more; they’d flex their muscles and throw their head back, as if Felix saying ‘this is your ninth beer already’ was the funniest thing they had ever heard, pressing money bills into Felix’ hand, who then had to pretend not to notice the tiny slip of crumpled paper with a phone number scribbled onto it wedged between the bills. He’d take the money but leave the phone numbers.

This man was different. He didn’t look at Felix as if he was a walking piece of meat. His eyes were curious and even a little hesitant as he observed Felix. Whenever their eyes met, a tiny spark shot up through Felix’ body, heating up his cheeks and making butterflies flutter through his stomach. He couldn’t hold the stranger’s eyes for more than a second at a time.

When Felix put a shot of vodka down on the bar in front of the musician, he looked up in surprise. Felix put on a brave and confident smile, even though his insides were churning. “Hello there,” Felix said, forever grateful his voice didn’t come out croaky. (This was also when Felix’ anxiety wasn’t that bad yet; he would _never_ walk up to a stranger like that now.) The man didn’t say anything for a few seconds, his eyes travelling from the glass to Felix. For a horrible moment, Felix imagined him having misinterpreted the man’s glances directed at him, but then the handsome stranger smiled and slammed the shot down in one go, holding the empty glass up in thanks.

“Hello. I’m Chan.” His name was short and sweet, and without ever having met him before, Felix knew it was the perfect name for him.

They talked for a few minutes about mundane and superficial things like the weather, Felix’ studies, and _The Ceruleans_. Felix got called back to serve more drinks, but he flittered back whenever he wasn’t busy, asking Chan questions about his work, music, and family, in turn answering questions about university, future plans, and his favourite kind of chocolate (dark with sea salt).

“When do you get off work?” Chan asked casually.

“In ten minutes,” Felix said, eyeing the clock.

Chan nodded and finished his beer (still his first glass) before excusing himself to find his friends. Felix felt a bubble of excitement rise up inside of him. Most of the students had cleared off in search of something more spectacular, which left Felix able to hear the conversation Chan was having with his friends.

“What the hell, man?” a short guy with dark hair asked. “You’re our ride home. You’re the _instruments_ ride home! You can’t just leave us here.”

Chan whispered something into the guy’s ear and then pressed a set of keys into his hands. The dark-haired guy sighed but pocketed them, shaking his head with a small smile on his face. He jerked his head back to the bar in silent approval, which Chan took as his cue to leave. He waited for Felix to finish his shift, eyeing the pictures on the wall with pretend-interest.

Chan insisted on walking Felix to his car (a _very_ beat-up thirdhand piece of shit he’d bought from a friend for far more than the car was worth), and then Felix insisted on giving Chan a ride home, and then Chan insisted on getting a taxi back to his own place because it was on the opposite side of the city, and then once they’d arrived at Felix’ apartment parking lot, Chan insisted on walking him to the building, then his door, then his bed, and then he did not leave until he’d had breakfast the next morning.

“I’ll call you tonight,” Chan said, pulling Felix in for a kiss, which turned into a make-out session, and then it took another half hour before Chan was actually out of the door and Felix was grinning like a madman at the tangled sheets, his cheeks darkening at the thought of what they had done the previous night.

Three years later, they were standing in a field with a notebook detailing their past lives, a picture of two men who looked nearly identical to them, and a pair of rings that fit perfectly on their fingers.

“I don’t know what to do now,” Felix said defeatedly, falling back onto the blanket (they had needed to sit down after the revelation of Chris not being human).

“I don’t think there is anything for us to do. I’m pretty sure Chris left this here in the hope that he would find it again in his next life. He said he’d hoped it would help him and… Felix to find each other again. But obviously, we’ve already done that.”

Felix was quiet for a moment. Chan was right, but it felt like such a Big Thing, which it was, naturally, and he _knew_ they had to do _something_.

“Do you think those people are still alive?” Felix asked, tapping the notebook. His friends, his family?”

Chan considered it. “Surely some of them are still alive. They wouldn’t be older than fifty. I’m not sure about these Fathers, though. I think they were older.”

“Should we look for them?”

Chan raised an eyebrow. “And do what? Go up to them and say ‘Hello, we are the reincarnations of Chris and Felix. Here is their tragic love story’?”

Felix sighed. “Might be nice, you know. Maybe we’ll find a connection to the places we used to live and love like the connection we feel now.”

Chan laid down beside Felix and played with his hand. “Okay, let’s do that then. I guess we could try the church? St. Paul’s right? That’s near my work. We can go there tomorrow after my shift ends.”

“Alright,” Felix said, his anxiety already growing again. Chan noticed because he tightened his grip on Felix’ arm and pulled him closer so Felix was nestled into the side of his body, resting his lips against his forehead.

“Look at this,” Chan said after a while. He lifted Felix’ arm and traced his fingers along the smattering of freckles on his wrist. Apart from his face, he didn’t have freckles anywhere else, except for this spot. He’d always thought it was a bit strange.

Chan lifted his own right arm. A discoloured birthmark decorated his wrist, and it wrapped around a bit like a dragon with small wings. _A dragon_. Like the tattoo. They held their arms next to each other and Felix realised with a start that his freckles were not randomly scattered along his lower arm like he had previously thought; it was roughly the same shape as Chan’s birthmark.

“Wow,” Chan said, and lowered his arm in amazement. “I’d never noticed that before.”

“Me neither.”

They laid on the blanket for a few minutes, their hands intertwined and softly stroking each other’s fingers. “We should go,” Felix said, breaking the magic of the moment. “I have to work soon.” Chan agreed. Without words, they packed up their belongings and made their way back to the car, which Chan had parked about a kilometre from the church. While they walked past the crumbled-down building, Felix eyed the plaque somehow still attached to the sidewall. It was dirty and barely readable, but he could still make out the words ‘Sacred Grace.’

“What was that church called again?”

“St. Paul’s?” Chan answered with a question.

“No, the other one. The one where everything was revealed.”

Chan frowned in concentration. “The Church of His Sacred Grace, I think.”

“I think this is that church,” Felix said quietly. “This is where everything started hundreds of years ago.”


	5. in this world of memories, there’s no need for strangers

The revelations did not offer Felix any reprieve from his nightmare – in fact, it had only gotten more twisted. Normally, he experienced the dream from his own perspective, laying down in bed and watching as Chan – no, _Chris_ – approached him. Now he was a silent spectator, standing in a shadowy corner of the room as he watched Chris and Felix murmur quiet declarations of love to each other. Felix drew himself up in a panic and with a slight touch of Chris’ hand against his forehead, Felix fell down to the pillow again.

Felix cried out as he woke up.

Chan stirred awake next to him, lazily throwing his arm over his body for Felix to hold onto – and he did. Felix grabbed at Chan’s arm, needing something to pull him back to reality and ground him.

“Bad dream?” Chan murmured, his eyes narrowed from sleep and exhaustion. He always asked that question, as if it wasn’t obvious enough why Felix was sweating and breathing heavily. Still, the sound of Chan’s voice was enough to calm him down. “Want me to get you a towel?” Chan asked, his voice hoarse.

Felix shook his head and then said ‘no’ when he realised Chan probably couldn’t see him, considering he had already closed his eyes again. Chan pulled Felix into his body and clacked his tongue a few times, trying to get rid of the dryness in his mouth. Felix hated it whenever he did that, especially when he did right in his ear. He sighed, too tired to chastise Chan for it.

* * *

Felix pushed the door to Favourite Flowers open, reaching up to silence the ever-annoying ringing little bell attached to alert them of a new presence in the shop. He normally didn’t mind too much, but his morning had been characteristically bad.

First, his alarm hadn’t gone off, which meant both he _and_ Chan were late and hadn’t done anything to improve their tired state. The hot water had been cut off, a usual occurrence in his apartment but undesirable nonetheless, so they hadn’t been able to shower either. Felix had run out of tea bags, which meant he had to take his benzodiazepines without chamomile tea. It made him nervous because he had irrationally convinced himself the drugs didn’t work without the tea. Chan had suggested he take them with a cup of soothing peppermint tea instead, but Felix had said peppermint tea was for Sundays _only_ , and they’d had an argument about tea, for God’s sake. Fortunately, they weren’t petty enough to stay angry at each other over something so trivial, so Chan had dropped Felix off at work and given him a big smooch as he got out of the car. It had been the one positive in his morning, but alas, it wasn’t enough to cancel out the other negatives.

The sound of a vase shattering to pieces erupted from the office and Felix sighed. The last thing he needed right now was Hero’s foul morning mood. But when Hero emerged from the office, they wore a big smile on their face, waving Felix over with an enthusiasm Felix hadn’t seen on them in a long time. Apprehensiveness made way for curiosity; Felix dropped his bag on the counter and followed Hero into the office.

“What’s going on?”

“Great news, Felix! We’ve got an investor!”

A sudden weight fell off his shoulders, the darkness inside of him allowing a few rays of light to shine through. Felix had never realised how much influence the stress of losing his job had on his anxiety, but considering he felt both physically _and_ mentally lighter, he assumed it was actually a considerable amount.

“Hero! That’s great!”

“It’s been sort of happening for a few weeks now, but it wasn’t official yet, so I didn’t want to get your hopes up. But the investor came by yesterday while you were out and we signed everything. Things are going up from now, Felix. You can count on that.”

“Starting with my paycheque, I hope?” Felix joked, though the easy laughter coming from Hero and their promise to see to it immediately made his heart flutter.

Felix spent the rest of his day humming along to a made-up tune, sweeping the floor and attending to the customers with the kind of selfless service he hadn’t shown since his first week of working at the shop. They noticed his chipper mood because they stayed behind after their purchase for a chat, which Felix usually cut off as quickly as he could. He found himself talking their ears off, and for the first time in a long time, it actually seemed busy in the shop.

Felix felt _so_ relaxed that when Chan came to pick him up at the end of the day, he took his sunglasses off to inspect Felix. “Everything alright with you?” he asked.

“Everything’s perfect!” Felix said as he hopped into the car, slinging his bag over the seats into the back. “Hero’s gotten that investor they were talking about! I really thought they were just saying it to comfort me or something, but it turns out it was legit all along.”

“Felix, that’s amazing!” Chan said, pulling him in for a hug. Chan, despite his reservations about Hero, seemed genuinely happy, which only lifted his mood more.

So when they arrived at St. Paul’s United Church, Felix felt too optimistic about his future to leave much room for worrying about what they would find inside. He was about to get out of the car when Chan put a hand on his arm.

“Wait, Felix. If there’s someone inside who knew Chris and Felix, I’m sure they’ll be shocked when they see us. We won’t be able to pretend we’re just passing by.”

Felix considered this for a moment. “That’s alright, isn’t it? I think I want them to know. I want to know more about Chris and Felix.”

Chan smiled lightly. “Let’s go then.”

It was obvious the church wasn’t frequently visited anymore. Posters outside on the notice-board were from a few years back, discoloured from the sun, and the whole place had an air of abandonment around it. For one moment, Felix thought the door wouldn’t budge as he pulled on it, but it opened with a heavy creak. Felix winced; he hadn’t wanted to announce their presence _that_ desperately.

Inside, the church looked well-cared for. The floors were swept and it smelled pleasantly like flowers. An impressive figure of Jesus stood in the centre-back, though its eyes looked a little goofy, and Felix had to hold in his laugh. He was about to point it out to Chan when a door opened at the back.

A man with grey hair and wearing a clerical outfit walked through the nave, his nose in a thick leather-bound book – probably a bible –, unaware of Felix and Chan’s presence. Chan cleared his throat awkwardly, startling the man greatly.

“Oh hello!” he said enthusiastically. He closed the bible and made his way towards Chan and Felix, weaving through the pews, his smile faltering with every step he took. When he came to a standstill in front of them, his lips were trembling and his eyes were full of tears, regarding Felix with a desperate look.

“I’m so sorry!” he exclaimed. “You look so much like someone I used to know.” The man used his sleeves to dab away the tears and tried to smile at them. “I’m Father Albert.” He offered his hand to Felix.

He took it. “Felix.”

* * *

Father Albert kept stroking Felix’ face in the picture. His tears had stopped, but he remained emotional as he looked at the picture. Chan and Felix sat a bit awkwardly at the table, waiting for him to acknowledge them again.

“Felix and I were never that close,” he said suddenly, looking up. “Always arguing about everything. Sometimes I think we did it because we were so used to it, even if we agreed on something. I was quite a bit younger back then, you know. I had all these ideas about the church and what I could do if I worked hard enough. But then again, St. Paul’s wasn’t only a church; it was an orphanage as well. I didn’t realise how difficult raising a bunch of rowdy boys was. I suppose I did alright, though. Most of the boys still visit from time to time. We promised this would always be a home to them, even if they’re all grown-up now with their own families.”

Father Albert sighed, lost in thought again. Felix took the opportunity to look around the room. They were sat in a kitchen, though it didn’t look like it was used often. There was only one mug on the counter and a half-filled old coffee pot.

“Is St. Paul’s no longer an orphanage?” Felix asked curiously.

Father Albert smiled ruefully. “It hasn’t been for quite some time now. After what happened with Felix, we didn’t get any new boys, so in the end, it was just a matter of waiting for  
everyone to leave the nest.” He swiped a dust particle from the table. “It was lonely after that, with just the two of us. Not many people came to service anymore either.” He looked away from them. “We have to close down soon, but I can’t make myself do it. Not yet.”

Chan swallowed. “Why did people stop coming?”

Father Albert sighed. “After Felix committed suicide, people started saying he did it because we’d been sexually abusing him. Some anonymous source had ‘found a letter’ addressed to him from Felix, in which Felix supposedly admitted to the abuse and how he couldn’t suffer any longer because of it. Police at our doorstep, not even a week after Felix had passed away, with a warrant and everything. The children were all questioned by social workers, asking them if we’d ever touched them inappropriately. Of course, the whole letter was fake; Felix couldn’t spell all that well, let alone write a four-page letter using words like _abjure_ and _demagogue_. But our image was tainted after that.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Felix said sympathetically. He hadn’t known Felix’ family – the dead Felix – had been convinced he’d committed suicide. He supposed it was easier to believe than a reaper taking his soul.

Father Albert shrugged lightly. “There is nothing to be done about it. We could have closed the church after all the children left, but neither of us wanted to. It felt wrong, for some reason.”

“You keep saying ‘us’,” Chan said gently. “Is there another Father here?”

“Oh no!” Father Albert said with a little laugh. “Not anymore. Father Gideon is far too old now. I’ve been running the church for the past ten years.” He hesitated. “We can go visit him if you’d like? He lives in a nursing home, but I visit him daily. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you tagged along.”

Chan and Felix looked at each other. “That would be lovely,” Felix said.

Father Albert clapped his hands. “Great! We’ll have to wait for a bit, though. One of the boys is coming over for dinner with his partner, and I haven’t even done groceries yet! You’re welcome to come along if you want?”

Chan and Felix went with him because it was a polite thing to do, and Felix privately thought Father Albert was immensely grateful for the company. The man must’ve been lonely. He nearly cried when Chan offered to pay for the groceries, and he wouldn’t stop talking about the past as the three of them chopped vegetables and stirred the pasta.

“How long have you been together?” Father Albert asked as he diced the onion.

Felix and Chan shared a panicked look, wondering if the old man realised the implication of  
that question. Chan took a gamble. “We’ve been dating for three years.”

Father Albert nodded and Felix let out a quiet breath. “Felix and Christopher were madly in  
love, you know? I suppose they really were soulmates. Gosh,” he said now, turning to Chan, “I’d almost forgotten about him until I saw your face. How strange. Now that I think about it, I can’t remember what happened to Christopher after Felix died. I don’t think I ever saw him again.” He frowned and went back to the onions. “We must have contacted him,” he muttered to himself.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of voices coming from the entrance. Father Albert’s eyes widened. “Excuse me,” he said while putting the knife down. “I have to warn him,” he said quietly, meeting his guests in the kitchen.

Felix and Chan said nothing as they continued cooking, anticipation heavy in the air. Whoever was in the corridor, he had obviously known Felix, otherwise Father Albert wouldn’t have reacted like that. There was a moment where they could very clearly hear the voices outside, and then there was the sound of footsteps running into the kitchen. Felix put his knife down in preparation for what was about to come.

A man in his late forties appeared, dark brown hair on top of a figure that was barely any taller than Felix himself, clad in an array of colourful clothes. “Felix!” he yelled in surprise, and then Felix saw nothing as the man threw himself at him, hugging him so tightly Felix could barely breathe.

The man withdrew himself from Felix. “Do you remember me? We were the best of friends!” he said excitedly.

Father Albert tutted. “I told you, Jisung, it’s not _him_.”

“What month were you born?” Jisung asked, ignoring Father Albert.

“September?” Felix responded, wondering why it was so important.

“Yes! Still a September. I’ll have to let Seungmin know we’re complete again.”

“You will do no such thing, Jisung,” Father Albert scolded lightly. “You know he won’t be able to take that now, not with the stress of his job.”

Felix cast a glance at Chan, wondering what he was thinking of the whole situation. But Chan wasn’t looking at him. He was looking at the other man, Jisung’s partner, a slim dark-haired man dressed in black, looking like an important businessman.

“Do we know each other?” the man asked, extending his hand in a handshake. “You look familiar.”

Chan shook his hand. “We must have, I swear I recognise you from somewhere.”

“I’m Minho.”

“Chan.”

While they dove into their academic history, comparing schools, university, and societies to  
figure out from where they knew each other, Jisung pulled Felix to the stove, seemingly unaffected by his best friend’s reincarnation. Felix tried to answer Jisung’s questions, but the only things he knew about Felix were the things Christopher had written into the notebook, and he got the idea Jisung and Christopher had had pretty different views on the same boy.

Dinner was a loud affair. Chan and Minho still hadn’t been able to figure out how they had met and were loudly arguing about hospitals, and Jisung was telling Felix all about the one time the other Felix had taken in a wild dog, claiming it was a sweet little puppy, while Father Albert interrupted with his own memories of the event.

Felix felt a warm and fuzzy feeling rise up inside his stomach. Everything was alright. He’d be able to keep his job _and_ get a pay raise, he was surrounded by good people and great conversations, and he realised he hadn’t felt anxious since coming into work, despite not having had his camomile tea that morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is taken from a manga called Rurouni Kenshin created by Watsuki Nobuhiro (I haven’t actually read this manga, soz)


	6. grief is the price we pay for love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for death and mentions of suicide

The nursing home was called Final Journey. Felix grimaced as he noted the synonymous link to Last Voyage, and it only deepened when he saw the neat flower beds and blue building-front, which reminded him so much of the funeral home he somehow expected the nursing home to be filled with corpses. But it was quite lively inside.

Thursday nights were bingo nights and a loud cheering sounded from the entertainment room, which was filled to the brim with old people laughing and drinking their after-dinner coffee. Felix peeked in curiously, but Father Albert guided them away to the corridors, which they walked up and down until they’d arrived at one of the only closed doors on the floor. A tag read the resident’s name: Mr Gideon Park.

“He’ll be awake, but not terribly alert. It’s late, after all. Try not to speak too loudly. He’s got sensitive ears,” Father Albert said this all in a hushed whisper. He jerked his head towards the door and smiled. “Come and get me when you’re done. I’ll be in the lobby.”

“You’re not coming with us? Aren’t you going to give him a warning?”

Father Albert continued smiling but shook his head. “I think it’s best if you two go in alone. He’s always been… well, I just don't want him to not ask the questions he wants to ask just because I’m there.” He stifled a laugh at Felix’ panicked glance at the door. “Father Gideon’s an eighty-six-year-old retired priest who spends most of his days in his bed or a chair. Trust me, he’s completely harmless. Just go along with him, alright?” With that, he walked away, happily humming to himself.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Chan asked. “This feels like a big moment or something. I don’t know. I can’t exactly describe it. It feels important.”

“Yeah,” Felix said. “I’ve got the same feeling.” He let out a big breath. “Let’s just go in before the old man succumbs to sleep.”

Chan knocked lightly, still loud enough for Father Gideon to hear it from inside. There was a rustling sound, someone clearing their throat, and then a low “come in”. Felix cast a nervous glance at Chan, who gestured at him to go first.

The room was dark and moody, with only a single small light on. It was cosy and homey, with old furniture and a wall plastered with pictures of men, presumably the boys from the orphanage after having reached adulthood. A few crosses were scattered between the frames as if they were pushed in as an afterthought, though Felix noticed the silver one was polished spotless.

“Albert?” Father Gideon croaked. Felix and Chan swivelled their heads to the sound coming from the bed. A man in the shape of a lump lay beneath the blankets, a book in his shaky hands, reading glasses perched on top of his nose. Father Gideon squinted at them. “Who have you taken with you, then?”

“Uh,” Felix said, his voice coming out a bit croaky. He cleared his throat. “Father Albert’s not here. He’s waiting in the lobby.”

“Oh,” Father Gideon said. “Please come into the light. I can’t see you.”

Felix and Chan shuffled into the light, their heads down. Father Gideon put the book down on his nightstand, folding his reading glasses and putting them on top of the book. He leaned over, trying to get a better look, but Felix’ hair was in the way, and Chan was still looking at the pictures on the wall.

“I can’t see you,” Father Gideon said, his voice patient. Felix hesitated but then kneeled down on the floor so they were eye-level. His gaze was still aimed at the floor, but with a small sound from Father Gideon, he lifted his head and looked him straight in his eyes.

There was a moment where nothing happened; even the old clock on the other wall had seemed to stop ticking. Then Father Gideon’s eyes widened, and Felix was being hugged by a complete stranger for the second time that day. His hug felt warm and reassuring, and Felix found himself not wanting to let go.

“Felix! Oh my Lord! Thank you, Lord! Thank you for bringing my son back home.” Father Gideon cried into Felix’ shoulder, his own heaving with heavy sobs. Felix stroked his back in comfort and moved him from side to side as if he were cradling a baby.

“I missed you so much, Felix. So, so much.” Father Gideon calmed down enough to let him out of his embrace but his hand stayed on Felix’ arm as if it were an anchor. “Where have you been?”

Felix wasn’t sure what to say to that. Did he remember his Felix had passed away? Was he supposed to act like his son? “I was away for a bit… but I’m back now.”

“Oh, I’m so glad! There’s so much I want to ask, so much I want to tell you!”

Chan stepped into the light as well, kneeling down next to Felix. “Hello, Father Gideon,” he said softly. Felix wasn’t sure Father Gideon would recognise him; Father Albert and Jisung hadn’t until they’d looked at the picture and even then their memories of Christopher were hazy and confusing, as if chunks of them had been taken away.

Father Gideon smiled kindly at Chan for a second, and then greeted him. “Hello, Christopher. I haven’t seen you for a while either.” Chan swallowed and nodded.

Father Gideon caressed Felix’s cheek like a father would and smiled sadly. “My grief for you was tenfold.” He said this with so much pain and love, Felix immediately broke down crying without explanation. He sobbed into Father Gideon’s side, who patted his head. Chan gently stroked his back.

“I thought you were happy,” Father Gideon said, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought things were going better. You seemed so alive, so full of will.”

Felix sobbed harder. “I-I’m s-s-so sorry!” he cried.

“My dear son, you don’t have to apologise for your own suffering. Tell me this: was there anything we could have done to prevent it?” he asked, his voice wavering ever so slightly.

Felix shook his head wildly. He knew little about the other Felix’ life before he passed away, only that he had not wanted to die in that moment; that much he was sure of. He saw it in his dreams nearly every night. But he also knew Felix had been destined to die, and that no one could have stopped it from happening. It was a cold comfort but also the only thing he could offer Father Gideon.

“They said – the police, I mean – they said the note you left indicated that you had planned your death, that you’d committed suicide. But they couldn’t find out how you’d done it. There were no exterior wounds and the contents of your stomach didn’t reveal anything either. They wanted to do a secondary autopsy, to take you apart.” Father Gideon started crying again. “But I couldn’t do it! I just wanted it to be over. We wanted to lay your body to rest and be over with it.”

“It’s okay,” Felix said, “It’s okay. You did the right thing.” Felix and Father Gideon cried together while Chan tried to console them both by patting their heads and shoulders and softly shushing them.

Before meeting Father Gideon, Felix had had no idea what to expect from him and the conversation they would have. He’d half-suspected him to respond as Father Albert had, emotional and disbelieving. Father Gideon seemed to believe his Felix had come back from the dead, which wasn’t an ideal situation, since this Felix knew practically nothing about the other one. But Father Albert had told them to go along with whatever Father Gideon did, and it seemed like a good idea. Until he asked a particularly tricky question.

“Did you really kill yourself, Felix?”

And how was he supposed to respond to that? Obviously, if Father Gideon was asking the question he was already suspicious of the circumstances surrounding his Felix’ death. Telling him it hadn’t been suicide, that it had been a freak heart-attack, was decidedly the best option, had it not been for that damned note Felix had left.

Father Gideon’s eyes travelled to Chan’s face and they narrowed as he inspected him.

“Christopher.” Chan leaned forward, surprised by the sudden attention. “I knew you weren’t of this world the minute I laid my eyes on you. At first, I thought you were sent by God, a divine intervention of some sorts. And I was so grateful. I was even more reassured of your presence when I saw Felix getting happier, but I lost some of it when I saw how you changed him. He became so rebellious and wouldn’t listen to us. I felt like you were making him lose his faith rather than reinforcing it.”

No one said anything as Chan and Felix let his words sink in. Even from Christopher’s journal entries, Felix had gotten the impression Father Gideon had been highly perceptive, seeing through lies and deceptions with ease. Him knowing Christopher hadn’t been human was still a bit of a surprise, though, but he supposed there was no reason not to be honest.

“Father Gideon,” he sniffled. “Christopher, he isn’t – he wasn’t human. He was a servant of death come to take my soul, but we fell in love instead.” He smiled bitterly. “Unfortunately, there’s no going against the fates, and he had to take my life anyway.”

Father Gideon started crying again, the third time in such a short amount of time. “You didn’t take your own life?” Felix shook his head with a sad smile.

“You’re right; I was very happy. I felt like my relationship with you and Father Albert was improving and my future looked bright once again.”

“Are you happy now?” Father Gideon asked between sobs.

Felix considered this. If he had been asked this question a few weeks ago, he would have probably given a resolute no, but now things were looking up. He still wasn’t sure about what the future would bring exactly, but he did know it would be better than his present. Chan slightly stroked his back, and Felix looked at him with a smile.

“I’m very happy.”

Father Gideon let out a choked sob, hiding his face in his blanket. “Thank God. I love you so much.” They stayed like that for a few minutes. He wouldn’t stop crying, and in the end, he had fallen asleep from exhaustion. Chan and Felix left shortly after, seeking out Father Albert in the lobby.

Felix walked through the corridor in a daze. The whole conversation felt like a fever-dream he hadn’t really woken up from yet. Chan squeezed his hand, grounding him back into reality.

“I think that went well,” he said. Felix nodded, his throat still closed up.

Father Albert was sitting in the lobby with a cup of tea, reading the evening newspaper in the low light of the table lamps. He wore reading glasses, and in the shadowy lights, he looked remarkably like Father Gideon. He looked up as they approached him, a pleasant smile on his lips.

“How was it?”

“Good,” Chan answered for Felix. “I think we managed to put his mind at ease a bit.”

Father Albert nodded. “That was my intention. He’s always said Felix’ death was not a suicide. No one really believed it, called it wishful thinking of a guilty conscience. I’m glad you were able to have a heart-to-heart with him. He talks about you all the time, still. He’s quite ill, actually. Bad dementia, if you’d believe it. But he remembers you clear as day.”

Felix found his voice again. “Felix, your Felix, of course, he died–”

Father Albert held up his hand to keep Felix from saying anything else. “Don’t tell me. I’ve made peace with Felix’ death a long time ago, and I don’t want to have to do it again. He’s gone, and his death has left a hole in my heart that no amount of doppelgangers or reincarnations or whatever you want to call it can heal.” He smiled sadly. “I’m really glad you came to us, Felix. I really am, you will always have a family here, should you ever want it.”

Felix smiled. He’d like that.

* * *

The funeral was seven weeks later. Father Gideon had deteriorated quickly after Felix and Chan’s visit. He had looked worse every time Felix went to visit him (twice a week if he could manage it). Father Albert was of the opinion Father Gideon had been waiting for some kind of closure for a very long time, and Felix had brought it to him.

Felix and Chan sat with the rest of the St. Paul’s boys – men, now – in the front pew. He had met most of the other men in the last month, news of their brother’s peculiar return quickly spreading. He was closest so Jisung and Seungmin, to whom the other Felix had been closest as well. They’d both tattooed ‘The Septembers’ on their wrists a few years after Felix had passed away, and had asked him if he was interested in getting the same tattoo. He appreciated the sentiment a lot, but he felt a bit weird getting a matching tattoo in place of someone else. Jisung still hadn’t really let go of the idea that _this_ Felix wasn’t the same as _their_ Felix. They’d compromised in the end and he’d tattooed ‘09’ on his wrist, which wasn’t quite the same, but still held the same value.

The funeral service took place in St. Pauls and was led by Father Albert. He spoke of Father Gideon being more than a mentor to him; he’d been his older brother, and the hurt of losing someone, even though they’d had time to prepare, was greater than anything he could’ve ever imagined. He also spoke of his passion for God and told an anecdote of something that had happened to Father Gideon when he had just begun working as a priest. Laughter boomed through the church, and Father Albert remarked on how he had missed that sound.

Felix walked with the others at the procession from the church to the graveyard, where a grave had already been dug. He cried softly as they lowered the casket, a simple and humble wooden one, into the ground. Father Albert said a few more words, and then they all threw a single rose on top of the casket, murmuring quiet and tearful goodbyes.

They sat and ate with Father Gideon’s family, who shared their favourite memories of him. Felix was glad tears had made way for smiles and laughed as Jeongin told him about how Father Gideon had once cut Felix’ hair so badly he looked like a delinquent. Felix had cried and then Father Gideon had given himself the same haircut out of solidarity.

Chan and Minho were sitting beside each other, talking in low voices and furiously whispering about something. Chan had read through Christopher’s notebook again and he’d come across Minho’s name on one of the earlier pages. Now the two men were talking about reapers, and if father Gideon had been taken by one of them, and how it was funny that they both still worked with the dead (Minho worked with terminally ill children in the hospital, which they had both agreed was close enough – sadly).

After everyone said goodbye to each other, with the promise to meet up more regularly, Felix and Chan went to the _Nevernight_ because Chan had a performance with _The Ceruleans_ later tonight. He’d wanted to cancel at first, but Felix had told him not to. “Life goes on,” Father Gideon had once muttered to Felix when he had asked him how he had managed his grief. He knew that applied to their own lives as well.

Felix and Chan ordered a few drinks and some finger food and talked about their future together – in the end, they’d managed to decide on nothing, besides a very small wedding, a minimum of three dogs, and also two children. The Big Things, Chan had called them. The Important Things, Felix had called them.

Felix enjoyed the performance and sang along with the crowd as _The Ceruleans_ performed some of their own songs and a few covers as well, which always went well with the crowd. Just when the lead singer started saying goodbye, Chan hogged the microphone.

“I want to sing a very special song today. My boyfriend and I recently lost someone very important to him, and I want to sing him a song that will honour that person.”

He dragged the keyboard to the front of the stage – only a few metres – and sat down on the little stool. The crowd was silent as he started playing the first notes.

Felix held his breath. Chan was playing him his favourite song. His voice was soft and emotional and utterly perfect, and he found himself crying, for Father Gideon, and Father Albert, and himself, and Felix, and Chan, and Christopher.

Chan looked only at Felix as he sang the song, and the rest of the room disappeared.

_And it was almost heaven_   
_Oh, it was almost heaven_   
_Oh, when we reach forever_   
_Will there be a place where you and I may find home?_   
_In heaven_   
_Make our home in heaven_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Title is taken from Brushstrokes of a Gadfly by E. A. Bucchianeri (once again, I haven’t read this book)  
> \- The song at the end is Almost Heaven, the same song I mentioned at the beginning!
> 
> Well, that was it! Hope you guys enjoyed it! (Also, what a nightmare writing two characters that have the same name! Hope it wasn't too confusing for you guys!)


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